Rochelle's File: A Story
by ryanzraindrop
Summary: Rochelle stumbles to Elliot’s doorway around three in the morning. That moment changes everyone at the precinct forever. A young thirteen year old girl takes over her own life and Elliot is there to monitor the changes. Rating my change
1. Chapter One: Melting Pot

I, most grievously, do not own Law&Order: Special Victims Unit, any of the characters, or any likeness of the 16th Precinct. I do, however, own Rochelle. Do not steal her. The poem is mine. The story line is my original work. Please R&R. My first SVU fic, please be gentle. 

Rating: PG-13, may change to R

Summary: Rochelle stumbles to Elliot's doorway around three in the morning. That moment changes everyone at the precinct forever. A young thirteen year old girl begins a new life and Elliot is there to monitor her every step of the way. Is there a love in the shadows, can Rochelle really become a new person?

Written by Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, copyright Druscilla Ryan Mortenson 2004

Rochelle's File

Chapter One: Melting Pot

The serene quiet of the night was broken when there came a knock at Elliot's door around three in the morning. "Kathy, stay in bed." He said, getting up and putting his feet on the floor. "I'll get it." Too late he realized what he had just said. It was more from habit than anything else. The double bed was empty. Elliot stood up, shaking his head.

He navigated his way downstairs and looked through the peephole. A young girl, probably thirteen—brunette, five foot three, holding a grocery sack and wearing a threadbare coat over fishnet stockings and _go-go boots?_

Elliot sighed and opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked, praying to God this wasn't another one of someone's ill conceived jokes. The last one hadn't been a very big hit.

"I hope so." The girl said, her voice extremely confident and mater of fact, if a little shaky. "You're a cop, you're supposed to help people, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I got your address from the precinct. You're Detective Elliot Stabler. I'm Rochelle Cavier. I'm thirteen, I'm a runaway, I was working as a hooker, and I have a case for you. A couple actually. Possibly. Maybe."

Elliot blinked and slowly nodded. "All . . . All right. Come in." He gestured at a chair in the kitchen and sat down on the counter, looking at her. She looked so trusting with big green eyes that just stared at him without the faintest flicker of fear. "First off, you said you got my address from the precinct?" Rochelle Cavier nodded. "They don't give out information like that."

Rochelle nodded again. "I know. I'm a very skilled liar and thief." She bit her lip, for the first time showing an emotion Elliot could identify: guilt. "Look, I knew that if I just went in that I might be, you know, pushed aside or laughed at. See, you worked on a case for a friend of mine a few months back and she said you're a really nice guy and all, so I decided I might as well try it. I've got nothing to lose. They'd probably treat me better on the street than they do out there."

Elliot took 'out there' to mean in a prostitute's life. "All right." He nodded. "I'm going to forget that you stole my address, for now. What is it—" He yawned. ". . . that you want me to help you with?"

Rochelle took a deep breath. "I was gang-raped when I was twelve by my dad, older brother, and some of their friends. Tonight I got gang-raped by my pimp and his friends."

_Mary, mother of God, what have I gotten myself into?_

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"I don't understand why you didn't just bring her down here or call me or call . . . anyone, Elliot—"

"What was I supposed to do, Olivia?" Elliot snapped, his voice low, leaning across his desk so he was closer to hers. "It was three in the morning. Excuse my judgment for being a little impaired."

"You're a cop. You're not supposed to have impaired judgment." Olivia mumbled. "There's Miss Cavier, right now."

Elliot turned in time to see a freshly showered Rochelle enter the room, wearing a camouflage miniskirt and a black sweatshirt. Her bag had been replaced by a book—Elliot assumed—had come from her bag. "Don't you look pretty?" he mused, standing up. "Rochelle, this is my partner—"  
"Olivia Benson." Rochelle stuck out her hand, which Olivia shook. "Katie told me."

"Shall we?" Olivia asked, gesturing toward the rooms used for questioning.

Rochelle swallowed nervously. "Yeah. Sure."

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Olivia was sitting opposite Rochelle at the table, whereas Elliot was sitting adjacent to her. "It's hot." Rochelle observed.

Olivia smiled. "You could take off that sweatshirt." She tapped the aforementioned item of clothing with her pen.

Rochelle shook her head quickly and lowered her eyes. "Th-That's fine. I mean, I'm cool. Never mind."

Olivia and Elliot exchanged a brief glance. "Rochelle," Elliot began, "is there a reason you won't take off your sweatshirt?"

"I always wear long sleeves." Rochelle whispered. "Always."

"Because . . ."

Rochelle looked up, blinking back tears. She hated showing weakness. "I cut myself, all right?"

"I think we need to call Huang." Olivia said.

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George left the room about fifteen minutes after he went in, shaking his head. He was almost smiling. "She's a very intelligent young woman." He said slowly. "I've never met a rape victim with psychological logic like hers. How far did you get with her story?" he asked.

Elliot shook his head. "I learned the basics. Who, when, where, that sort of thing. We called you as soon as we found out about her wrists."

George nodded. "Those should be fine. They'll just need to be sterilized and wrapped. They weren't very deep." He paused for a moment. "Pay attention to women's roles in hers stories. It sheds some light on why she trusted you—a man—after her attacks."

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"So her friend Crystal ratted her out for fifty bucks and a line of coke. Her mother called her bitch and slut for years and finally turned her out of the house. I don't understand what you're getting at." Elliot said impatiently.

"The women never hid their true colors." George said. "Rochelle knew exactly what the women were like. They never concealed anything. The men, on the other hand, were sneaky. They hid who they were, unleashing their true colors just when Rochelle was becoming closer to them." He sighed. "It's simple psychological logic, but it's off-base. What happens when she meets a woman who lies?"

The precinct suddenly grew very cold.

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_I lay in bed. My cat Ginger is cuddled up with me. There is a window right by my bed and I can see the moon. It's full tonight. Beautiful. Suddenly, I smell Jack Daniels and cigarettes. I close my eyes, praying he'll go away. My room is suddenly very cold, despite it being June and us having no air conditioning._

_"Don't play stupid with me, slut." Randy says. "Dad wants you downstairs. Now."_

_I reach for the pajama pants sitting on my dresser, trying not to cry. "Don't put those on, slut. They'll just end up coming off anyway."_

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"Hey, Rochelle." Olivia said, coming in the room. "You want to come with me?" Olivia had a fist aid kit in her hands. Rochelle obediently followed her into the bathroom.

"Some people call me Rox or Chelle." Rochelle said, following Olivia. "You can if you want."

Olivia smiled. "What do you want me to call you?"

Rochelle thought for a moment. "Roxie. It makes me think of dancer, you know, like _Chicago_?"

Olivia laughed and set down the first aid kit on the sink as they entered the bathroom. "We're just going to sterilize your wrist." Olivia said, opening a bottle of peroxide. "What did you cut yourself with?" Rochelle hesitated. "I'm not going to judge you. It's just that if someone else had access to it, we might need to get your blood tested."

Rochelle shook her head. "I used a razor blade. It was new when I bought it and I kept it under the sole of my shoe. I doubt anyone had access to it." The peroxide bubbled as Olivia applied it to the six or seven cuts, two of which were extremely recent.

"It's not normal." Olivia said slowly. "But it's a normal occurrence. Realizing you need to stop is the first step."

Rochelle hesitated as Olivia began to wrap her wrist. "Was it a normal occurrence with you?"

Olivia finished wrapping Rochelle's wrist. "Once." She pulled the sleeve of her jacket up, and pointed out a silver scar about a centimeter long. Rochelle never would have noticed it otherwise. "When my mother die." She snapped the first aid kit shut. "Just between us girls, right?"

Rochelle smiled. "Right."

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"What do you right in there?" Elliot asked, tapping Rochelle's journal.

She looked up at him. "Poems. I'm not very good, but it helps to write it out sometimes, you know?" She smiled. "Would you like to read one?"

Elliot smiled. "Sure. Why don't you pick one out for me?"

Rochelle flipped through the book expertly, knowing exactly which one she wanted Elliot to read. She had written it just a few days before. She handed him the book.

The pages were blue, with faeries and moons up the side. Not too mature, Elliot observed. He was glad. Rochelle was too young to grow up yet.

_It's not easy to be the one_

_For I'm the only one_

_I can remember before this place_

_I can remember after_

_There's nothing for me in this corner of dark_

_There's nothing for anyone here_

_It's all just a bundle of people_

_They call in the MELTING POT_

_Everyone gets dumped inside and tossed around_

_And they all look the same_

_I don't want that_

_I want to be more than just your or me_

_I want to remember what it's like to be._

"It's beautiful." Elliot said softly. "And true." _So true._

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_What do you think? Please R&R. The poem belongs to me and is entitled 'Melting Pot'. The characters and likenesses of the 16th precinct do not belong to me, they belong to Dick Wolf. I am only using them for sick, cheap thrills._

_In Chapter Two: Bad Dream, Rochelle does police work that Elliot doesn't condone, exchanges words with Elliot, and gets self-defense lessons._


	2. Chapter Two: Bad Dream

_Disclaimer: I do not own any SVU characters, their likenesses, or any likeness of the 16th precinct. Unfortuantely, all of these people and likenesses are the property of Dick Wolf. However, I wrote him a letter about his will and leaving everything to me. I hope to hear from him soon. I do own Rochelle and shamelessly use her to my advantage. I also own the poem at the end of the chapter. The story IS mine. Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, copyright 2005._

_Author's Note: The first scene of this story would probably never be allowed. Ever. However, I don't care. I wanted it, so I did it._

_Rating: PG-13_

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Two: Bad Dreams

"No." Elliot said, crossing his arms and looking down at the thirteen year old, who was grinning cheekily. "We won't allow it."

"We?" Rochelle asked, grinning. "You got a mouse in your pocket or something?" She looked at the floor. "Okay, I'm being a smartass." She looked back up. "But—"

"Language." Elliot said sternly. Munch turned a laugh into a cough as Olivia quickly took a drink from her coffee mug, conveniently hiding her mouth.

"But," Rochelle said pointedly, "_if_ I can get this guy to confess, and I think I can, then it's all good, right?"

Elliot glared at his colleagues. "Look, I can see that I'm going to be outvoted, but I don't like it and that's that."

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"Hey." Rochelle said, entering the interrogation room. "What's up?"

"Nothing." the perp, McCall, said. "Yet."

Rochelle sat down and raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure we can change that." she said, grinning. "So, you really fuck that girl or what?"

"What's it to you?" McCall asked, leaning back in his seat, hands behind his head.

Rochelle beckoned him forward, moving her fingers slowly and seductively in a 'come hither' gesture. She hadn't been a hooker for a year without learning a few things. "Between you and me, I could use a good fuck."

Elliot moved for the door, but Olivia held him back. "Let's just see what she does." she said softly. "Just wait, okay?"

". . . but I want to make sure you're not all talk." Rochelle was saying. "That last thing I need is a guy with a three-inch dick telling me he can rock my world."

McCall grinned. "Yeah, I fucked her. Bitch probably wasn't nothing as good as you'll be, though."

Rochelle smiled. "Was the bitch stupid enough to say no?"

McCall laughed. "You into that sort of thing?"

Rochelle shrugged. "Maybe."

"Yeah," McCall said slowly, "she said no. Screamed it actually." Elliot opened the door and jerked his head, indicating it was time for Rochelle to leave. "Call me, sweetheart."

Rochelle rolled her eyes. "Whatever, asshole."

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"Don't even think about it." Elliot said as Rochelle reached for the wine bottle.   
"Awww, Elliot." the young girl whined. "Why not?"

Elliot pretended to think for a minute. "Let's see . . . you're thirteen and . . . no, I think that just about does it."

"You are _so_ the typical father figure, Elliot." Rochelle said, eating her last potato chip.

"Was that a compliment?" Elliot asked, smiling.

Rochelle shrugged. "I don't know. I'll think about it and get back to you later." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. 'Night."

Once she was gone, Elliot remembered the strange conversation that had taken place between Olivia and him today, a conversation so logical he had to dismiss it.

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_"You're not using Roxie to forget the girls, are you?" Olivia asked, sitting down beside him. She kept her voice low. "You know I can take her."_

_Elliot looked at her, his face pained. _How can she ask that?_ "I could never forget the girls." _Or Kathy, trust me, I've tried.

_"I know." Olivia said. "I was just asking if you were trying to."_

_Elliot stared at her. "No, Olivia. I'm not."_

_She lowered her head. "I didn't mean anything by it, Elliot. I just needed to check."_

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Slowly, Elliot reached for the wine bottle.

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"No, you hold your thumb outside of your fist, otherwise you'll break it. You may be able to break his nose, but it'll hurt like hell." Elliot took Rochelle's hand and made the fist appropriately.

"Elliot." Rochelle whined. "I'm tired. I know you couldn't sleep, but it's three in the morning." She stuck out her bottom lip as Elliot's cell phone rang.

"Stabler . . . on it." He clicked the device shut. He looked at Rochelle. "Go get a pillow or something. We have to go."

Rochelle nodded slowly and yawned, heading up the stairs.

They were an odd pair, heading down the stairs to Elliot's car five minutes later. Elliot was dressed in a suit. Rochelle was dressed in pajama pants, one of Elliot's tee shirts, and bunny slippers. She clutched a pillow to her chest.

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"Wait here. Lock the doors and scream if you need me, okay?" Elliot said, opening his car door. "Get some sleep, kid."

Rochelle nodded sleepily and crawled into the backseat, hitting the lock button. "'Night." she whispered.

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_I walk slowly down the stairs, trying not to throw up. Randy has his cold fingers on my back, guiding me down the stairs. We walk past Momma and Daddy's room. I want to run in there and throw myself into bed next to Momma. In a perfect world she would hold me and call the cops. The real world does nothing to help people like me._

_There are seven people in the basement. Daddy, three of his friends, and two of Randy's, plus Randy. Randy pushed me toward Daddy. "I brought her."_

_Daddy grabs me by my shoulders and slowly runs one hand up through my hair. "Slut."_

_"Daddy, I don't want to." I whisper. "Please."_

_He hits me. Hard. "Did I tell you to backtalk to me, slut?" He shakes me hard to emphasize his point._

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Elliot heard the screams before Olivia had time to register them. When she arrived at the car, Elliot was fumbling with the key. He unlocked the door and wrenched it open, revealing Rochelle.

"No!" she screamed, twisting, her body contorted with her back curved at a nearly impossible angle. Elliot gently shook her awake. When Rochelle's eyes flew open, he pulled her into his arms. "I didn't mean—"

"Ssshhh." Elliot whispered. "It's okay, angel. It was just a bad dream."

Something seemed to happen at that moment. Rochelle pulled back, shaking her head. "It's not just a bad dream." she whispered.

Elliot kissed her forehead. "Did you dream about your dad, sweetheart?" Rochelle nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry." He held the thirteen year old while she cried.

_If teardrops could solve my problems_

_If screams could mend my heart_

_If my pain could ease my suffering_

_If my wounds could dry my tears . . ._

_I would never suffer_

_And I would never cry_

_I would never look at my reflection_

_And want to die_

_I wouldn't need to scream_

_And I wouldn't need to cut_

_I wouldn't look at myself and see rape_

_Hear the words BITCH and CUNT_

_I would be normal like everyone else_

_But my tears can't fix problems_

_And my wounds are still here_

_I HATE GOD_

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What did you all think? Please R&R. I know this was a short chapter.

CHAPTER THREE: YELLOW ROSE features a major turning point in both Eliot and Rochelle's lives. We meet her father. We also get a little more light hearted.


	3. Chapter Three: Yellow Rose

_Disclaimer: With deep regret I must admit that I own none of the Law&Order: SVU characters, I also do not own the 16th precinct or it's likeness. All of these things are the property of Dick Wolf. I do, however, own Rochelle, this story, and the poem. Copyright Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, 2005_

_Rating: PG-13_

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Three: Yellow Rose

"B-But . . . I don't . . . foster care . . . Can't you just adopt me or something?" Rochelle blurted out in frustration. She ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I know that you can't—"

Elliot lifted her face with his fingers. "I _want_ to adopt you. And I can. I just needed to know what you wanted."

Rochelle smiled. "Y-You want to adopt me? Really?"

Elliot hugged her. "Of course I do."

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"Here's the deal." Alex said in her 'don't-you-dare-interrupt-me-you-son-of-a-bitch' tone. Elliot and Rochelle had both seen it in work, they never realized she would be using it to argue their case. "You turn over legal guardianship of one Rochelle Cavier to one Elliot Stabler. I allow you to walk on a misdemeanor charge of sexual assault."

"Rochelle Cavier?" Eric asked, leaning across the table and staring at his daughter. "Unfortunately, that's not her legal name. I can't turn over guardianship of someone who doesn't exist."

Alex made a surprisingly quick recovery for the shock this put them all in. "Then what is your daughter's real name so I can draw up the appropriate paperwork?"

"If she can remember, I'll take your deal. No questions asked." Rochelle's biological father and rapist said.

Rochelle looked at the table for a minute, her fingers tracing a pattern on it's smooth surface. "Emily Lynn Dupree." she said softly. "My name is Emily."

"Why the hell would you change her name?" Elliot demanded, glaring at the man across from him.

Eric Dupree scoffed. "Do you really think I wanted that bitch sliming up my good family name?"

"You're right." Elliot said, standing up. Alex and Rochelle both looked at him. "I wouldn't have wanted your last name either." He and Rochelle left the room.

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"Rochelle Cavier Stabler." the thirteen year old said, smiling. "It sounds good to me."

"It's sounds pretty good to me too, kid." Elliot said, kissing her forehead.

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Elliot arrived with Olivia and was greeted with the sigh of Rochelle sleeping at his desk—again. He hung up his coat and gently shook Rochelle awake before lifting her up in his arms and preparing to carry her to the locker room.

"I can—" Rochelle yawned. "I can walk upstairs, Daddy." She murmured, trying to force her eyes to stay open.

"I'm sure you can." Elliot mused, chuckling softly. He carried her upstairs and laid her down in the single bed in the locker room. "'Night, sweetheart." He whispered, kissing her forehead.

"'Night, Daddy."

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"I can't figure out why she's so damned tired all the time." Elliot said, sitting down. "Where are we with Anne Conner's phone calls?"

"There are several calls on her cell phone to a Brendon Meyer. Possibly a boyfriend." John said, continuing to sift through stacks of paper.

"Half-brother." Olivia said. "Same mother, different fathers. Apparently the two were very close."

"How close?" Fin asked, raising an eyebrow over Conner's cell phone records. "She has five phone calls a week to this guy and they were all made between one and four a.m. I don't think she needed a bedtime story."

"We're on it." Olivia said, standing up.

"Keep an eye on Chelle, will you?" Elliot asked as he and his partner exited the building.

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"So when did the 'Dad' thing start?" Olivia asked once they were driving down the street.

"What 'Dad' thing?" Elliot asked, pulling his sunglasses from his jacket and putting them on.

"I'm prying." Olivia said, shaking her head. "Never mind. Next left."

"No, it's fine." Elliot said, flicking on his turn signal. "I guess it was while we were doing her room." He shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"Liar." Olivia said, smiling and shaking her head.

Elliot just smiled and continued to navigate his way through the traffic. So what if he was a liar? Was he really supposed to say Rochelle's calling him 'dad' meant the world to him? That his eyes had misted over when she call him that and he had to dismiss himself to the bathroom?

Rochelle had entered his life at a time when he was trying _not_ to think about suicide. She had made him laugh, made him cry, and made him realize that was okay. She had made him love again.

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Rochelle stumbled down the stairs, pouring herself a cup of coffee before she sat down at her father's desk. She glanced at the name on the file and yawned. "Does she have a kid?" she asked.

"Not one that we know of." John said, looking at the girl who was looking through her father's desk, more from boredom than anything else. "Why?"

Rochelle shrugged. "There's a kid at school named Elisabeth Conner. I eat lunch with her sometimes. She's slow, but cool. She wasn't in school today and everyone says her mom died."

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"Is it or is not coincidence that every time your daughter opens her mouth we get a tip or a lead and even a confession?" Olivia asked, typing the name 'Elisabeth Conner' into her computer. "Elisabeth Brendon Conner?" Olivia asked, eyebrows raised. "That's an interesting middle name, don't you think?"

Rochelle appeared in the doorway. "Olivia, can . . . ummm, you come here? Please?"

"Sure." Olivia said, standing up. Elliot had also begun to rise from his chair.

"No, Dad. Just Olivia. Please?"

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Olivia emerged from the ladies' room a minute later. "Got a quarter?" she asked her partner.

Elliot opened his desk and handed her one. "Why?" Olivia raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Elliot's eyes widened. "Oh." Olivia rolled her eyes as she took the quarter and headed back to the bathroom, as Elliot picked up the phone.

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"It's so embarrassing." Rochelle said, washing. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Olivia, who knew the rose ceremony wasn't far off, told the truth. "He guessed." Rochelle blushed. "Honey, calm down. Remember, he once lived with five women."

_Once lived with . . ._

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There was a single yellow rose by Rochelle's plate at dinner, along with a small box of chocolates. Rochelle smiled softly. "Thank you." Then she looked up, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Elliot asked, quite used to female mood swings.

"You did this for your daughters, didn't you?" she asked, trying not to cry.

Elliot nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

"Why?" Rochelle blinked back tears. "Why are you treating me like your daughters? Why did you adopt me? Why me?"

Elliot was temporarily speechless. "I though you wanted me to adopt you."

"I did. I just want to know why."

"It's not that simple." Elliot said slowly. "I _needed_ to adopt you. You showed up on my doorstep and . . . I was thinking about killing myself until I met you." Elliot admitted softly. "You made me remember why I needed to live. I fell in love with you, Chelle. Did you really think I was going to let you get away?"

"So, we're a family?" Rochelle asked.

Elliot picked up her hand and kissed it. "Of course we are."

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"Olivia," Rochelle whispered, making sure her dad could barely hear. "Will you marry my dad?"

Elliot's eyes went wide and Olivia choked on her laugh. "Why don't you ask me when I've had some more coffee?" Olivia said, barely looking at Elliot.

Rochelle happily left the room to go start a fresh pot. "I'm sorry." Elliot apologized. "lately she's been on this whole 'I-need-a-mom' kick and you're the mom." He chuckled. "Kids, huh?"

"Elliot," Olivia said, "she started this about a week before you adopted her. "Something along the lines of 'you two are soul mates, so just get married already'." Olivia laughed. "I told her we were having a secret, passionate affair."

Elliot's eyes widened. "You didn't."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Did you really think I would add more fuel to her fire?" She smiled as she and Elliot held each other's gaze for a moment. "You know—"

"See?" Rochelle exclaimed, entering the room with a cup of coffee in her hand. "It's a perfect cliché. You two were gazing lovingly at each other over your desks!"

"Actually," Elliot said, looking up, "we were discussing how annoying you are."

"So, will you two get married?" Rochelle asked, as Fin and John entered the room.

"All right." Fin said. "What did we miss?"

_Changing from day to day_

_One emotion to the next_

_One whisper on the air_

_And I alone—without care_

_Away from your world_

_Away from time_

_Everyday a new journey_

_Everyday a journey's end_

_And someday I will become me_

_One emotion after another_

_A collage of me_

_A portrait of me_

_Just me_

So, what did you think? Please R&R. I really like reviews.

In CHAPTER FOUR: DAUGHTER time has elapsed and Rochelle is now a high school sophomore. We get a major look at her life, a life we would not expect from her. Elliot has his first troubles with his daughter and she becomes a wild child, sort of.


	4. Chapter Four: Daughter

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of these things except Rochelle, the poem, and the story. The characters and likeness of the 16thprecinct are not mine. Don't sue._

_Thanks for the reviews; I do have a response to one of them. Rochelle isn't an average person. She's not like most other people. That's why I created her. She trusts men too easily. In this case it wasn't a bad thing, but it may be later. Who knows?_

_Sorry there were no flashbacks in Chapter Three. I'm adding one just for Shorty._

_I know not all cheerleaders act like the ones in my story. I'm just using the stereotype to my advantage. I apologize to anyone who might be offended._

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Four: Daughter

_"The time was there, but without a meaning." --Nightwish_

A few years passed. Rochelle continued to pester Elliot and Olivia, who continued to insist their relationship was no more than plutonic. Soon she was a sophomore at Central High School. She had transferred from West Central due to the astonishingly high number of fist fights now adorning her permanent record.

Her first day happened to be a two-hour late start, which meant Rochelle spent two hours at the precinct arguing with Elliot about her outfit, doing her hair, and changing her make-up.

"I just don't see why you have to show so much skin." Elliot said, setting the box of files on his desk.

"It's not that much skin, Daddy." Rochelle said, pulling her hair out of the ponytail holder.

_That's a matter of opinion._ Olivia though, examining the fifteen year old's outfit. Rochelle was wearing ankle boots—that happened to belong to Olivia, a black miniskirt, and a black spaghetti strapped tank top under a mesh long-sleeved top.

Elliot's cell phone rang. "Stabler . . . yeah, we'll be right down." He hung up the cell. "Rochelle, we'll drop you off on our way to—"

"We'll take her." Fin volunteered. Central wasn't anywhere near their district and everyone, including Rochelle, knew it.

"All right." Elliot said, kissing his daughter on the cheek. "See you after school, angel."

"Someone'll be here after school to get you." Fin said. "And no fights. Your father will kill you."

"I know, I know." Rochelle said, getting out of the car.

"Rochelle, there's a hole in your shirt." John said as the sophomore headed up the sidewalk. Rochelle smiled and flipped him off.

"Got a light?" Rochelle asked a group of teenagers: five girls and two boys.

"Yeah." One of the guys—a hot Latino—said. "You're lighting a fire in my pants, sweetheart. How about lighting one in my bed?"

"Get over yourself." Rochelle said, turning to leave.

One of the girls stood up, holding out al lighter. "Wait. My name's Lisa. That dipshit is Tyler." The other boy—a black stud—was Keith. There was a tall, black girl named Kendra, a waifish blonde named Tyra, an Asian girl with dyed red hair called Monique, and a short brunette with a nose ring with Chelsea. Lisa was a tall blonde with medium boobs and cropped hair.

"I'm Rochelle." The sophomore lit her cigarette, slightly guilty about what her dad would think.

The eight of them were listening to Keith's boom box after school, Nelly blasting through the speakers. "Hey, let's see if white girl can dance." Kendra—Rochelle's least favorite member of her new 'group'—said.

Tyler jumped at the offer. "Whadaya say, Roxie?" he asked, holding his hands out to her.

"Whatever." Rochelle put out her cigarette and stood up. When Elliot and Olivia showed up, a small crowd—including two cheerleaders—had gathered around the duo. The two were freak-dancing or, as Elliot called it, 'having dry sex'. Needles to say, neither father or daughter was extremely thrilled to see the other.

Rochelle tried to cover it up. "Hey, Dad." She picked up her bag pack and purse. "Ready to go?"

"Hey Mr. S, I'd be glad to drive her home." Tyler said.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." Elliot said sarcastically.

"Oh my God!" Jessi the Cheerleader grabbed Rochelle's arm. "You _have_ to ry out for cheerleading!"

"Totally! You're awesome!" Jessica the Head Cheerleader cried. "Tryouts are Thursday."

"You have to choreograph your owns ong."

"You're awesome!"

"Who was that boy?" Elliot asked as Rochelle buckled up. "The one that wanted to 'drive' you home."

"Tyler." Rochelle answered. "I'm going shopping tomorrow." She fumbled in her purse for a piece of gum to cover up the smoke on her breath. Instead her cigarettes fell out on the car seat.

"What the—" Elliot pulled into the next parking lot, turning around and snatching up the box. "What the _hell_ are these? And what's more, why the _hell_ do you have them?"

"I-I must have grabbed Kendra's purse by accident. I don't—"

"Don't you are lie to me." Elliot warned, an angry glint in his eye. "how long have you been smoking?"

"A couple days." Rochelle fibbed.

"I told you not to lie to me!" Elliot yelled. "I can't believe you could be so stupid. I know they teach you about the effects of tobacco in school." he growled.

Rochelle blinked. "Daddy, I—"  
"Give me your purse." Rochelle looked at him, confused. "No. I want to know what you're carrying. Now, dammit!"

Olivia unbuckled. "I'm going to slip inside and get a Coke or something." Then she was gone.

"Dad, this is a total invasion of privacy!" Rochelle screamed. Elliot grabbed the purser from her. "Daddy!"

"What are these?" he yelled, holding up two small, square packets.

Rochelle sighed. "Condoms and no, I'm not having sex. I bought them at a gas station."

Elliot seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. "You're grounded." he said in a soft, dangerous voice. "I don't know how long. Now go inside and get Olivia."

"Did you know about this?" Elliot asked, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear as he made a sandwich.

"Yes to the condoms, no to the cigarettes. I gave her the money for the condoms." Olivia said on the other end of the line, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

"Why would she want condoms if she isn't having sex?!" Elliot demanded.

"It's just this teenage girl thing. Actually, it's main girls who _aren't_ having sex that collect condoms." Olivia answered, sitting down. "Don't be too hard on her, Elliot."

"I caught her _smoking_!" Elliot fumed.

"I know, but Rochelle gave her word that she'd quit and she won't break it. She's so upset, El." Olivia said quietly.

"And how the hell would you know this?"

"She called me before you did." Olivia answered truthfully. "She values your opinion so much, Elliot. She's afraid you want to 'unadopt' her."

" I could never do that." Elliot said. "Ever."

Rochelle tried out for cheerleading anyway. She made the squad. Lisa—who had quickly become Rochelle's best friend—aught her crying in the bathroom on more than one occasion. "Girl, you need to stop caring so much about what your dad thinks." Lisa said, handing her a kleenex.

"He adopted me." Rochelle said. "And I'm repaying him by smoking and dressing this way and the whole cheerleading thing."

"Yeah, well, adopted or not, you need to chill. I mean, you're his kid now, right? He knows you're going to fuck up." Lisa hugged her. "Want a smoke?"

Rochelle shook her head sadly. "No, thanks. I'm quitting."

_"Nobody would want you, slut." Daddy whispers, shoving his tongue down my throat. "You're only good for fucking. Nobody could ever get attached to you. You'll be with me until you die."_

_"I'll tell." I say weakly, trying anything to make him stop._

_He slaps me. "No one would believe you, you little whore. You're branded. You lost your purity to me. No one will want you now."_

"She's going to be at the game." Elliot said, looking up from his daughter's day planner.

Olivia shook her head. "Elliot, let it go."

The songs being performed—three opening, four half-time, one if they won—were the kind of songs that required freak dancing: "Drrrty", "Hot in Here", and "Hey Mama". Needles to say, Elliot was not happy. The outfits weren't helping either. Central only wore uniforms to certain state events. Tonight they were wearing tight green shorts and teeny, white crop tops.

"Let's go." Elliot said. "I'll ground her later. I just don't to watch this. It's like cheap porn."

That was when Rochelle fainted.

"Is she okay?" Lisa screamed hysterically as Olivia emptied her water bottle in Rochelle's face.

Rochelle opened her eyes and immediately closed the again when she saw her dad. "I'm dreaming." She whispered.

Olivia shook her head. "Roxie, get up. We need to find out why you fainted."

"She didn't eat today." Lisa volunteered. Rochelle sat up and glared at her. "She was really worried."

"About tonight." Elliot said, pulling hid daughter to her feet. "Let's go."

"No." Lisa said, standing up. "She was worried about _you_, Mr. Stabler. She though you would send her to foster care."

"I wouldn't send you to foster care." Elliot said, as he made his daughter a sandwich. He sat down and handed her the plate. "Eat."

Rochelle glumly picked at the sandwich. "But I screwed up. Bad." Tears hone in her eyes.

"Every kid does." Elliot said. "You don't send your kids to foster care just because they mess up."

"But I'm not your _real_ kid." Rochelle protested, taking a bite of the sandwich.

Elliot grew silent for a moment. "Yes, you are." he said softly. "You are my real daughter, Rochelle. You're all I have."

_For a moment I though I was infinity_

_For a moment I though I was omnipotent_

_For a moment I was no longer scared_

_I thought my world was now heaven_

_I thought there was nothing that could break it_

_I thought my heart ruled the world_

_Infinity was wrong_

Please R&R. I love you all!

In a tentatively titled CHAPTER FIVE: BROKEN VOICE, Rochelle gets into trouble worse than she has been. Elliot accepts being powerless—for a time. Will a kiss change everything?


	5. Chapter Five: Broken Voice

_Disclaimer: I do not own any SVU characters or any likeness to the 16th precinct. SVU, unfortunately, belongs to Dick Wolf. I just use the characters for my own cheap pleasure. However, Rochelle and the story are mine. Copyright Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, 2005_

_The song "Holy Water" is the property of Big & Rich. It seemed to fit perfectly with this chapter. Due to the usage of this song, there is no poem in this chapter. _

_Author's Note: I love your reviews. Please send me more! Xoxoxo_

_Rating: PG-13_

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Five: Broken Voice

_Someone ran away with her innocence  
A memory she can't get out of her head  
I can only imagine what she's feeling  
When she's praying  
Kneeling at the edge of her bed_

Rochelle started dating Mark a month after she was ungrounded. He was a senior, just turned eighteen, and was on the basketball team. As Rochelle explained to her dad, jocks only dated cheerleaders. The really popular jocks anyway.

"Daddy, what were you in high school? Rochelle asked as she handed him his cup of coffee.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" He took a drink from the mug and set down his pen.

"I mean, what group were you in? Geek, jock, popular, semi-, invisible, radical, loner, untouchable, brain, 'don't-touch-me-I'm-religious', bad boy, clean cut, hottie, what?" Rochelle said all of this without stopping for breath.

"Pretty long list." Elliot observed. "I don't know. I guess I was a jock, but I got straight A's. How about you guys?" He looked at his colleagues.

Fin shook his head. "I was the guy no mom wanted her daughter to date."

John laughed. "I was one of three Jews in a predominantly Catholic school Classic _Les Miserables._"

Olivia looked up, realizing all eyes were on her. "I was Homecoming Queen." She finally admitted. "So I dated the jocks."

"Like me." Rochelle said.

"Yeah." Olivia said. "Like you."

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Or perhaps not. "I got in a fight. Kendra ripped off my necklace." Rochelle said in response to Elliot's question.

"Another fight?" Elliot sat down. "God, Rochelle. I thought we were over this."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." _I'm a whore. Please don't hate me._ Rochelle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "It won't happen again." _I hope._

Elliot sighed, nodding. "Okay. I won't ground you this time. Just don't let it happen again." Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew something wasn't right. It was almost an unconscious thought, something his heart knew, yet his mind didn't want to believe.

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"I ran into a door." Rochelle said. She had come into the precinct trying not to cry. Her father and Olivia were gone. "this guy was opening his car door and I ran into it." She had a fresh black eye.

"Did you run into his fist afterwards?" Fin asked as John went to get ice.

John came out and handed her some ice cubes wrapped in a towel. "Or Mark's fist, maybe?"

Rochelle put the ice on her eye. "I don't know what you're getting at." she said slowly. "Why would I run into Mark's fist?"

"Maybe he hit you with it." John said. "And then maybe you made up a story about a car door."

Rochelle shook her head. "Mark wouldn't hurt a fly. He'd never hit me. Mark loves me."

"You've been dating for two weeks." Fin said. "Isn't it a little soon to be using the 'l' word?"

Rochelle rolled her eyes, or the good one at least. "Yeah. Whatever."

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"Can't I arrest him?" Elliot asked.

"I don't think it would do any good." Olivia said. "You don't even have circumstantial evidence. You can't hold him. He might just hurt her worse if he thinks she told." Her voice was shaking. "Do you think there's any chance she'll tell us?"

Elliot shook his head, trying not to let Olivia see the tears standing in his eyes. "She's convinced he loves her." He took an unsteady breath. "How can she love him? How can any woman . . . he hits her, dammit!"

"I know, Elliot." Olivia reached across the space between them and gripped his hand. "I don't understand it either. We just have to wait and ask questions and maybe even pray."

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"Daddy, I'm going out tonight." Rochelle said, slipping into the car after school the next day.

"No, you're not." Elliot said, adjusting his rearview mirror. "How'd you do on your math test?"

"I got an A." Rochelle said dismissively. "Why can't I go out?"

"Because I said so." Elliot put the car in reverse. "And you—unfortunately—have to listen to me."

"But, Lisa and Monique—"

"Tell me where you got your black eye and that bruise on your arm." Elliot said. "Then I'll let you go."

"I got in a fight." Rochelle said softly.

Olivia turned around in her seat. "I tough you ran into a door, Roxie."

"That was my eye. I got in a fight and that's how I got the bruise on my arm." Rochelle explained.

"I thought you said you fell down the stairs." Elliot commented, looking at his daughter in the rearview mirror.

Rochelle glared at him. "I know what you're trying to do. Don't use your bullshit police interrogation tactics with me. I'm not admitting to anything that didn't happen."

"But it did." Elliot said.

"Fuck you." Rochelle's eyes filled with tears. "Fuck you."

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_Somewhere there's a stolen halo  
I use to watch her wear it well  
Everything would shine wherever she would go  
But looking at her now you'd never tell_

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"The homecoming dance is this Saturday." Rochelle said. "I'm nominated for Queen, Daddy. I _have_ to go."

"You don't _have_ to do anything." Elliot replied. "You're grounded until you stop lying." He looked at her, trying to act as if this didn't really bother him. "Anything else?"

Rochelle shook her head, resolved not to cry. "I'm not lying about anything." She blinked furiously. "Dad, can I _please_ go?"

"I told you already." Elliot replied. _I don't care if you hate me as long as you're not getting hit, baby. I don't want to do this to you._

Rochelle glared at him. "You just want to ruin my life." she whispered bitterly. "Mark loves me and you actually think he _hits_ m?"

Elliot put down his pen and looked this daughter. "Chelle, I'm not trying to ruin your life. I just don't want you to get hurt." He took a deep breath. "That's why I'm doing this."

"Go to hell." Rochelle ran out of the precinct; Olivia and Fin went after her. They didn't have to go far. Rochelle was sitting against the building, crying. "Go away." She mumbled. "I don't want to talk."

Fin crouched down. "Rox, we all know Mark is hitting you." He said softly. "The sooner you tell us, the sooner we can fix it."

_Mark loves me. He says so everyday after he—_

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_She wants someone to call her angel  
Someone to put the light back in her eyes  
She's looking through the faces  
The unfamiliar places  
She needs someone to hear her when she cries_

Rochelle ran into the precinct and threw her arms around Elliot's neck. "He hits me, Daddy!" She burst into tears. "But-But he l-loves me. H-He said so. Daddy . . ."

Elliot held her tightly. "He doesn't love you, baby. If he did, he wouldn't hit you."

Rochelle shook her head. "He said so. I _love_ him." She tried to pull away. "I'm stupid. I'm just a stupid slut."

Elliot held her tightly, his surrounding blurring as tears filled his eyes. "No, you're not. He lied to you, he tricked you. You believe him, that's all." He kissed her forehead. "None of it was your fault, baby."

Rochelle struggled against his grip. "Leave me alone." she whispered. "Let me go."

"Chelle," Elliot asked, "where is Mark right now?"

"Leave me alone." Rochelle muttered. "Don't touch me. I'm a whore, Daddy." She tried to pull away and hold onto Elliot at the same time. Sobs tore from her throat. "I'm a stupid whore. Leave m alone."

Elliot kissed the top of her head. "You're not a whore. You've been abused. You're the victim, Chelle, not the—"

Rochelle viciously tore herself from her father's grasp. "And Marks the perp, right?" she snarled. "Well, you're wrong. I deserved it! I was a bad girlfriend! I wore tight clothes and I-I talke dot other guys and I tried to say 'no' when he wanted to have sex' . . ." Elliot stood up. ". . . and I-I said it hurt and . . ." Tears sprang into Rochelle's eyes as Elliot moved toward her.

"Rochelle—"

"He raped me, didn't he?" Rochelle whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He raped me." She looked up, her green eyes dark and clouded. "he's coming her at seven to pick me up."

"It's five to." Olivia said softly.

"Fifteen minutes." Rochelle said. "He's always ten minutes late. He says it's to remind me that the universe doesn't give a shit what I think." Rochelle blinked furiously. "Daddy?" She held out her arms and Elliot took her in his. "I love him." Rochelle said. "I hate him, Daddy, but I love him so much." Tears leaked from her eyes. "Does _that_ make me stupid?"

"No, baby." Elliot said, blink back tears of his own. "It makes you human."

_She just needs a little help  
To wash away the pain she's felt  
She wants to feel the healing hands  
Of someone who understands_

_And she says take me away  
And take me farther  
Surround me now  
And hold, hold, hold me like holy water  
Holy water_

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Please R&R. I know this came out of no where, but there is a statistic that says women who have been raped and/or abused tend to become involved in relationships like that again.

The song "Holy Water" was written as a sort of prayer for Kenny's sister and survivors as well as victims of domestic abuse.

Chapter Six hasn't been written yet, but it is about the confrontation. Sorry about the misleading kiss. It won't appear for a while. I promised a kiss at the end of Chapter Four. More flashbacks in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter Six: Closed Eyes

_Disclaimer: As I have previously stated, I do NOT own the 16th precinct or any SVU characters. I do own Rochelle, any poetry that turns up, and the story in general. Copyright Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, 2005._

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews. Shorty, here are some flashbacks for you._

_The song "Me and Emily" is the property of Rachel Proctor._

_Rating: PG-13_

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Six: Closed Eyes

"Rochelle, I want you upstairs." Elliot said, drying his daughter's tears with the pad of his thumb. "I don't want you down here when he comes in."

"I have to be." Rochelle said, taking a deep breath. "I'm always outside waiting. If I'm not he'll know something's up."

"No." Elliot shook his head. "I'll tell him you're doing your hair or something. I don't want you to have to see him." He kissed her forehead. "Upstairs, angel."

Rochelle shook her head. "Daddy, I have to do this." she whispered. "I need to do this. For me. I have to know what I'm doing."

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_I can't look at him. I keep my eyes closed, the salt from my tears burns the inside of my eyes. I can't face him, what's happening. It's been happening for so long, pretending I'm invisible just makes it all go away. Except for the pain, the numbing pain. How old was I when he took my innocence, my purity, my virginity? How old was I when I became a woman?_

_A sob tears from my throat. I was five. I was five years old when I became a woman. I was practically born a whore. "Get off of me!" I scream, shoving furiously at the man who is my father. "Get the fuck away from me!"_

_He slaps me. There's blood as he strikes me repeatedly. "You fucking prick!" I scream. Why now? Why did I break now? What the hell is possessing me?_

_My eyes are still closed._

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"Honey, you're turning Mark in for hitting and raping you." Elliot said gently, rubbing her shoulders.

Rochelle shook her head. "When my dad . . ." She paused, looking at each person in the room one by one. She trusted them all. Then why was this so hard. "When my dad raped me that night . . . when everyone else was there . . . I kept my eyes closed. I fought, but my eyes were closed, Daddy! I couldn't see what I was doing, if it made a difference. I don't know what it means . . ." Rochelle took a deep breath. "I don't know why this matters so much, Daddy, I just know that I need to do it."

Elliot sighed. "How are you going to get him to come in, Chelle?"

"I'll tell him that you want to talk to him about the dance." Rochelle said. "He won't hit me with so many people around, Daddy. I know him."

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_I know there were seven. I can't remember how many times they fucked me. I sit up as I hear footsteps outside my door. It opens. Momma._

_"You slut!" she says, her face hideous. "Fucking your own father and brother! I ought to kill you with my bare hands! Get out of my house!" she screams. "Now!"_

_I grab the things closest to me: my journal, two pairs of underwear, a bra, and a pair of jeans. I can't even remember being so happy . . . or so broken._

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"Hey." Rochelle ran up to her boyfriend and kissed him. "My dad wants to talk to you before we go, okay? It's about the dance."

"All right." Mark said, kissing her possessively. "Let's go for a quick ride first, babe." He said. "A joy ride and a blowjob. What do you say, Rochey?"

Rochelle tried to smile. "Mark, my dad _really_ wants to talk to you, otherwise I can't go to the dance on Saturday." She pulled on his hand. "Let's go."

"What did you do?" Mark demanded, grabbing Rochelle's wrist painfully.

"Nothing." Rochelle answered. "What do you mean?"

"You told him, didn't you?" Mark yelled.

"Told him what?" Rochelle asked, playing stupid. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"You stupid slut!" Mark raised his hand to hit her. Before his blows could fall, Fin had him against the car. "Assume the position. According to your record, you should know the procedure already."

Rochelle looked confused. "He has priors?"

"Two counts of date rape." John said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Go take care of your dad, Rochelle."

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"Did he hurt you?" Elliot demanded, pulling Rochelle close and inspecting her.

"Don't you trust Fin and John to take care of me?" Rochelle asked, smiling. Then she grew serious. "He tried. Fin stopped him and John told me to come take care of you."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Take care of me?" He hugged his daughter. "Baby, Mark will never hurt you again. I swear."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"I love you." Rochelle whispered. Olivia turned her head, tears unexpectedly welling up in her eyes at this touching moment between father and daughter. Between Rochelle and Elliot. Elliot . . .

"I love you, too, princess."

_Finally the storm is letting up,  
And the morning is breaking free._

"Who do you want in the room, Chelle?" Elliot asked. "Nobody's going to be mad." He handed her the bag of chips off the counter.

"You." Rochelle said, opening the bag and hopping up on the counter."

"That's a given." Elliot said, smiling. "Who else?"

Rochelle shrugged. "Whoever wants to, I guess."

"Baby," Elliot began, "everyone wants to be in there. Everyone wants to be with you."

Rochelle smiled, her eyes growing shiny. "It's funny. The first time I showed up at the precinct I didn't have anyone. Now every cop in the precinct wants my case."

"You're easy to love." Elliot said, sitting next to her on the counter and putting his arm around her shoulders. "You've got an appointment with Huang before the questioning." he added.

Rochelle shook her head. "Daddy, I'm—"

"Fine, I know." Elliot said, nodding. "Just go for me, baby. I want to know that you're okay."

Rochelle sighed. "Okay."

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"Do you want to talk about Mark?" George asked, smiling across the table.

Rochelle shrugged. "Sure. That's why I'm here, right?"

"You're here because your dad worries constantly." George said. "Then again, I suppose he has a right to worry this time. What do you think?"

Rochelle smiled and shook her head. "I . . . I'm not as shaken up as I should be. I wasn't the first time either. This time I just feel calmer. I mean, I did my part. I was in charge. He's not going to hit me again."

"No, he's not." George said. "If you're not shaken up, what do you feel? Are you trying to ignore it? Does it feel like a punishment, like you deserved it?"

Rochelle bit her lip, trying not to smile. "No offense, but I hate it when you shrink me."

"Most people do."

Rochelle looked at the table, tracing her fingers in an invisible pattern. "Sometimes I think I deserve it. I try not to think like that. And I'm not trying to ignore it. I know it happened. I just figure, why dwell on it? What happened happened. There's nothing I can do about it. I don't want to dwell on the past anymore. I just want to work on now. You know?"

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"Is it repression?" Elliot asked. "Is she trying to pretend it didn't happen?" He anxiously drummed his fingers on the side of the chair. "Why is she acting . . . okay? Fine? Good, even?"

"Your daughter's resilient." George said. "I don't know why. She's a strong woman. She understand what happened, she tries not to blame herself and she's succeeding with that. She knows Mark needs to go to prison and she's willing to do what it takes to make sure he stays there. She just . . . she wants to move on. She says she doesn't want to be the average rape victim. She wants to have a life where she's not afraid of men."

"Is that possible?" Elliot asked. "For her to have a 'normal' life?"

"Of course it's possible." George said. "It's even more possible for Rochelle. She's willing to work for it. She's an amazing woman, Elliot."

Elliot nodded. "That she is."

_It's a brand new day,  
It's a second chance.  
Yesterday is just a memory,  
For me and Emily._

"When did Mark start hitting you, Roxie?" Olivia asked, after pressing record on the tape player. She uncapped her black ink pen.

"About two weeks after we started dating." Rochelle said nervously, looking at her father. Elliot put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand.

"And the rapes?"

"Our one-month anniversary." Rochelle blinked back tears. "He got mad when I wouldn't put out. He said I owed it to him."

"Do you have any visible bruises?" John asked.

Rochelle nodded slowly. "Yeah . . . ummm . . . I do. My arm, my leg, my eye." she pointed at each place after she spoke. She paused for a moment, moving closer to her father. "He cut me with a razor blade." she whispered. "Olivia? Can I just show you?"

The woman stood up. "Of course. Come on."

Elliot held her as she stood up. "You'll be okay, sweetie." _What the hell did he do to her?_

_Driving through the rain with no radio,  
Trying not to wake her up.  
Cell 'phone says "low battery",  
God, what if I break down?_

Rochelle lifted up her shirt, putting the discarded item of the clothing on the side of the sink. Then she slowly unhooked her bra, tears filling her eyes. "I feel like a whore." she admitted.

Olivia shook her head. "You're not." She bit her lip, fighting tears. There were three cuts adorning Rochelle's breasts, two on the left and one on the right. The cut on the right breast was about two inches long, no more than a slash made about a half inch below her nipple. On the left breast, Mark had cut his initials. There was also the word 'slut' spelled out in capital letters. One above the nipple and one below. Rochelle would never be able to wear low-cut blouses again. That is, if she ever wanted to.

"Oh, Roxie . . ."

Rochelle shook her head. "That's not all, Olivia." She unsnapped her jeans and pulled them down and then off, along with her underwear. The word 'bitch' was spelled out on Rochelle's pelvis, away from her private region, but low enough hat it was covered by her underwear and hip huggers.

Olivia nodded, tears spilling. "Okay, Rochelle. You can get dressed now." The young girl looked so broken and afraid standing in the precinct's bathroom. She was naked, all her secrets exposed.

_Some day, when she's old enough,  
She's gonna start askin' questions about him . . ._

_"Does he not love me like you do?"_

Rochelle left the precinct with Elliot about three hours later. He dug around in the medicine cabinet and came out with a bottle. He handed it to his daughter. "It's cocoa butter. It'll help with the healing and the scars, Chelle."

She nodded. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm scared of going to court." Rochelle whispered. "What if Mark gets off? He'll come back and—"

"I will never let Mark hurt you again." Elliot kissed the top of her head. "I swear on my life."

"Daddy—"

"I swear."

"He said he'd kill you." Rochelle said, a sob tearing from her throat. "Daddy, he—"

"No one's going to get hurt, Rochelle." Elliot said firmly. "Not you, not me, not Olivia or John or Fin . . . or anyone, do you understand?"

Rochelle nodded slowly. "Yeah, Daddy, I understand."

_Big rigs are throwing rain on my windshield,  
And I feel like they're laughing at me.  
Finally the storm is letting up,  
And the mornin' is breaking free._

"I need to know if I can use the pictures of your cuts as evidence, Rochelle." Alex said. "They would be close-ups, so no one would actually see your breasts. I need your permission too, Elliot."

Rochelle nodded. "Okay. It's fine with me."

Elliot put his hands on her shoulders. "All right. Do you need me to sign anything?"

"Yeah." Alex slid a paper across the table, then dropped the professional demeanor. "Are you okay, Rochelle?" She winced. "Sorry, bad question. _How_ are you doing?"

"I'm doing all right." Rochelle answered. "Some moments are better than others. I'm a little worried about this court thing, though."

"Don't be." Alex said encouragingly. "We'll run this a million and two times, until you're comfortable with everything. We'll go to the court room. Mark is going to get the maximum sentence. Battery, rape, statutory rape, assault, and a half a dozen other charges. We're going to put him away."

"H-He . . ." Rochelle paused. "Manslaughter."

"What?" Alex asked, her eyes going wide. Elliot dropped the pen.

"Manslaughter. I was . . ." Rochelle adverted her eyes. "I was pregnant, Alex. He beat me so bad that I lost the baby. He said it would ruin his chances of a sports scholarship."

_When did we fall down_

_When was ring around the rosies no longer a game_

_When was my life up to the roll of dice_

_When did my secrets become my worst fears_

_When did my worst fears become secrets_

_And memories past_

_But can memories ever really disappear_

_Will my scars heal?_

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Please R&R.

The plot bunny has bitten me.

CHAPTER SEVEN: no current title: THE CASE AND THE PREGNANCY!

PLEASE R&R! I NEED YOUR REVIEWS TO KEEP ME GOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	7. Chapter Seven: Three of Hearts

_Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would be doing Christopher Meloni instead of writing fics. SVU characters and any likeness of the 16th precinct is, unfortunately, the property of Dick Wolf. I own Rochelle, any poetry that turns up, and the story in general. Copyright Druscilla Ryan Mortenson, 2004._

_Rating: PG-13_

_Author's Note: The charge that comes up in the story—you'll know what I'm talking about when you read it—is based on a law my mother (majoring in Criminal Justice and then heading to law school) told me about. The fetus-baby thing was based off her estimate of it. I just had to clarify because of the episode 'Monogamy'._

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Seven: The Three of Hearts

"P-Pregnant?" Elliot whispered, taking the seat beside his daughter. "Oh my God. Honey, I had no idea. When? How far along . . . Oh God, baby."

"It happened a couple weeks ago. I was about three months along. It was an E.P.T. Maybe I was wrong." Rochelle all but whispered.

"You need an immediate physical." Alex said. "We'll confirm or disaffirm the pregnancy. They'll also check you for any internal damage." Alex paused and took a deep breath. "It's not my place to say, but you might want to think about therapy, Rochelle."

"Does my physical . . . I mean, with a . . . man or guy . . ." Rochelle stammered.

"I'll set up the appointment with Dr. Michaela Taylor. She's very nice and works with our firm." Alex looked at Elliot. "No charge."

"I can—"  
"I know, Elliot." Alex said lightly. "It's part of the case evidence. The fee will come from Mark's pockets." Alex closed her briefcase. "Rochelle, think about what I said, okay?"

"I will."

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"You were pregnant." Alex said in a gently voice. "About twelve weeks along. Paternity tests match up. It was Mark's child.

Rochelle nodded slowly. "What doe sit mean for his charge?"

"Murder two." Alex whispered. "At twelve weeks it's no longer a fetus. Mark . . ." Violating the unofficial professional code of ethics, Alex reached across the table and grabbed Rochelle's hands. "It was a baby, Rochelle. Mark killed a baby."

"My baby." Rochelle whispered. Elliot, who was standing behind her, squeezed her shoulders lightly.

"There's new legislature . . ." Alex paused. "Before, I couldn't even think of arguing this type of case. It's not legally considered an unwanted abortion anymore. Past the twelve-week point—first trimester—it's a child. It's murder."

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"Your Honor, we would like to request bail." Dennis Douglas, Mark's attorney, said.

Alex stood. "Your Honor, the plaintiff requests bail be denied. Mark Halloway's crimes—"

"Alleged crimes, Ms. Cabot." Dennis protested softly.

Alex glared at him. "Fine. Mark Halloway's _alleged_ crimes make the victim fear for her life if the defendant is released. She believe a temporary restraining order is not enough to protect her."

"Would the defense care to say anything?" Judge Mahleebue asked.

"Yes, Your Honor. My client is currently attending high school and participating in basketball. Until he is tried in court, I believe he has the right to participate in his education and extracurricular activities."

"Your Honor," Alex began. "There are tutors that can help the defendant keep up with his studies. Basketball season doesn't start for another eight weeks. My client request, once again, that bail be—"

"Denied." Mahleebue said, pounding his gavel. "Bailiff? Court is adjourned."

Mark turned to the table his ex-girlfriend was seated at. "Rochelle, baby, don't do this. I love you, honey. You now I'd—"

"Mr. Halloway, hold your tongue." Mahleebue ordered.

"I love you, baby!"

Rochelle tore out of the courtroom like the devil himself was after her, and in a way he was.

"How long would I get for beating his head in?" Elliot hissed, standing up and grabbing his coat.

Alex grabbed his arm, her eyes going from blue to grey, shaking her head softly. "Too long for your daughter."

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Elliot dialed his partner's number. "Hey, Liv. It's me . . . yeah . . . there's no bail, thank God . . . actually, Chelle wants to talk to you . . . badly . . . okay." Elliot handed the phone to his daughter and went into the next room.

"Hey, Olivia." Rochelle said nervously.

"Hey, Roxie. How did today—"  
"The case-trial thingy was fine. Sort of. Okay, it sucked. Bad." Rochelle took a deep breath. "Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Name it." Olivia said on the other end.

"Can . . . ummm . . . can you come stay here tonight?" Rochelle asked, licking her chapped lips.

Olivia nearly dropped the phone. "Let me . . . Let me talk to your dad, kiddo."

"I know what she asked." Elliot said after his daughter had wandered into the living room and turn on the television.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say." Olivia admitted.

"Say yes." Elliot looked at his watch. 8:53. "Grab some clothes. We'll come pick you up."

"Don't be ridiculous." Olivia said. "I'll drive."

"No, Liv. Look, Rochelle will kill me. Let me indulge her this, okay? We'll pick you up." Elliot said, tired. He was worried to death about his daughter.

"O-Okay." Olivia said.

"Bye, Liv."

"Bye, Elliot."

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Rochelle flew into Olivia's arms. "Thank you." she breathed.

"Honey—"  
"I'm scared, Olivia." Rochelle whispered. "Daddy needs a break from me."

Elliot entered the apartment. "I'll take your bag out, Liv." he said, picking up the green duffel. "Meet me out there, you two."

When Elliot left, Olivia knelt and looked at Rochelle. "Who said your dad needs a break from you?"

"I did." Rochelle answered defiantly. "He's worrying about me too much. I don't like it. Why does he have to be so damn concerned all the time?"

"Because he loves you." Olivia said, grabbing her jacket. "Between you and me, Elliot does worry too much. This time I think he's justified."

"When was the last time he got like this?" Rochelle demanded.

"I don't remember." _When he told Kathy about you._

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"She's worried about you worrying about her." Olivia said, pulling a beer from the fridge and handing one to Elliot.

"What?"

"She's worried that you're too concerned about her." Olivia supplied. "Which means, don't worry in front of her. Do it behind her back."

"But—"

"Elliot, she'll be okay." Olivia said. "I don't know why. I don't know how, but somehow she'll be fine. She'll bounce back. She always does."

"And the rest of us?"

"The chips will fall, Elliot." Olivia whispered. "Life's like that."

"I hate that!" Elliot yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. "I hate not having any control! Life is about control, Olivia!"

"No, Elliot. Life is about taking whatever hand you get dealt." she said calmly, setting her beer on the counter and taking one of Elliot's hands in hers. "Elliot, you can't control the whole damn world."

"Why not?"

"Because you're just one man." Olivia murmured. "You're only one person. You can help balance out Rochelle's world, but you can't control it."

Elliot set his beer bottle on the counter and gently ran his fingers through Olivia's hair. "Liv . . ."

"Not now, Elliot." Olivia breathed. "It's not the right time?"

"And when is?" he questioned.

"I don't know." Olivia said, her nose stinging with the threat of tears. "It's never been the right time."

"Never been . . . Oh God, Olivia. How long?" Elliot whispered, pulling her close to him.

"Too long." the woman whispered.

Their lips slowly moved together, feeling the chemistry between them. Olivia released Elliot's hand and brought her arms up around his neck. Elliot gently ran his fingers through her hair. "Oh, El."

"Well, now I'll never be able to get to sleep." came an amused voice from the doorway of the kitchen. The two adults looked up to see a grinning Rochelle. "You'll never believe me, but that wasn't my plan this time."

_And if you have a minute why don't we go  
Talk about it somewhere only we know?  
This could be the end of everything  
So why don't we go  
Somewhere only we know?_

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_I'm sorry. All the poems I thought about were just too . . . fluffy. This song is "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane._

_Please R&R! Let me know about the whole E/O thing. Did I make it happen too fast? Too out of the blue? Too many metaphors? I'm so stressed!_

_Okay, let's not promise anything, but I'll try and make the next chapter include the court scene! Right now I'm wondering if Kathy should find out? I was thinking I might have her and the kids show up at the house unexpected. Meet Rochelle? Maybe Olivia will be there? If you don't R&R I won't know what to do! Help!_


	8. Chapter Eight: Alone

_Disclaimer: I don't own them! Jeesh._

_Author's Note: No offense meant at all, but when I put that law in, I didn't mean it as an opinion toward abortion. I am pro-choice. I simply used it from a legal standpoint. If you want to win your case—and Alex does—you use laws to your advantage. Please don't hate me 57. I don't mean anything by it._

_Rating: PG-13_

ROCHELLE'S FILE

Chapter Eight: Alone

There was a knock at Elliot's door at six the next night. It happened to be the person Elliot would have least expected to appear on his doorstep. The blonde woman was holding a briefcase. Elliot barely had time to invite her in before she entered his house, blonde hair blowing behind her. Without so much a preliminary 'hello', Alex let the news fly. "Rochelle needs to be prepared to discuss her father's rapes as well as the other gang-rape at the trial."

"Wh-What?" Elliot gasped, his eyes going wide. "Why? That's not the case."

Alex clenched her teeth. "I know that. The defense is going to try and make it seem like she's too paranoid and naive to understand what rape is. They're going to emphasize her other rapes and make it seem like she thinks all sex is rape."

"But." Elliot paused. "Alex, Rochelle has never told _me_ all the details. How is she going to tell the lawyer that hates her?"

"Make her tell you, Elliot." Alex said quickly. "Make her tell you. Then when she's on the stand she can look at you and tell her story. I can only object to so many things, Elliot. Rochelle _has_ to be able to tell her story on the stand, confidently. Otherwise the other attorney is going to prey off her fear."

Elliot nodded. "Thanks for coming by."

Alex managed a very brief smile. "Remember, courtroom at two tomorrow."

Elliot grinned, shaking his head after she left. He should have known Alex would never admit to caring about this case so much. Rochelle had changed everyone, not a single soul had been left untouched, but with as much joy as Rochelle emulated, the world seemed determined to make her life the exact opposite.

Elliot walked back into the living room. _I guess I met the girl who sees the glass half full._

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Rochelle was watching _Eurotrip_ when the surprise visitors arrived the next day. She was lounging in baggy jeans and a tube top, waiting for her hair to dry so she and Elliot could head up to the courthouse. When Elliot had begged her to blow dry her hair, she had rolled her eyes. ("Daddy, do you know how damaging it is to blow dry your hair?") That's why she was still in the house at half past one.

Elliot and Olivia were in the kitchen, talking—among other things. "I'll get it!" Rochelle cried when the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole: five people. _Jesus._ Rochelle swung the door open. "Can I help you?" she asked.

A woman who looked about Elliot's age, raised an eyebrow. "I'm looking for my hus—ex-husband, Elliot Stabler."

Rochelle smiled. "Oh my God! Are you Kathy?" Rochelle turned her head and yelled in the vicinity of the kitchen. "Da-ad!" she yelled. "Come here!"

Elliot appeared in the living room, smiling an wiping his hands on a dishtowel a minute later. Olivia was following him, laughing. Both of them stopped when they saw the group outside: Kathy, Maureen, Kathleen, Elizabeth, and Richard—Elliot's ex-wife and kids.

"Uh . . ." Elliot stepped forward, trying to smile at his wife, smiling at his kids. "Come on in."

"Olivia." Kathy said, barely inclining her head.

"Hello, Kathy." Olivia said, trying to smile.

Rochelle, who was trying very hard to ignore the strained smiles and tones, smiled and introduced her self. "I'm Rochelle."

"Rochelle . . ." Kathy got an extremely strange look on her face. "I don't believe we've met."

"No, we haven't, but I've heard about you." Rochelle explained. "I'm—"

"Olivia, would you take Rochelle . . . upstairs?" Elliot asked, looking at his partner. Olivia nodded, understanding that 'upstairs' meant _'away'._

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"What, did you think that you would adopt a new little girl and marry Olivia and have this whole new family?" Kathy hissed, arms crossed. "Did you forget that we already have a family, Elliot?"

"No." Elliot snapped, face contorted with anger. "_We_ don't have a family. You took that away from me the day you handed me the divorce papers. The reason I adopted Rochelle have nothing to do with you and, since you have no legal rights concerning her, they're none of your business."

"And Olivia?"

"Things happen, Kathy. I would have expected you to understand that with . . . what's his name . . . Nicholas?" Elliot growled, his eyes narrowing.

"I thought you would want to see the kids." Kathy said, smiling and playing sweet.

"I _do_ want to see the kids. That's why I've been calling you nonstop since the divorce." Elliot looked at her. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I-I . . ." Kathy shook her head.

"We'll never be a family again, Kathy." Elliot said, firmly.

"Fine, I'll take the kids and leave you alone with your _new_ family."

"Kathy, don't you dare!" Elliot snapped. "Don't you use the kids against me. They aren't leverage to be thrown back and forth."

"Elliot, you gave up the kids when you signed the papers."

"No, Kathy, I gave you up. I gave up the marriage. I gave up you. I have never given up the kids and I never will."

_Alone for once_

_The quiet I longed for is now hell_

_The peace I longed for is now war_

_Alone for once_

_Alone again_

_Must I always be alone?_

"Have you ever had consensual sex, Miss Stabler?"

Rochelle looked up at her dad and Alex. "Yes." she said softly.

"Your consensual sex was due to your job, correct?" Rochelle looked at her father. "Miss Stabler?" Dennis asked, stepping directly in front of her, deliberately cutting off her eye contact with her father.

"Yes." Rochelle said slowly.

"You worked as a prostitute, correct?"

"Objection, Your Honor." Alex said standing up. "Relevancy."

"Come to your point, Counselor." Judge Mahleebue said. "Answer the question, Miss Stabler."

"Yes, I worked as a prostitute." Rochelle snapped. "Two years ago for six months."

"Is it possible that you've had such bad sexual experiences you believe every man is out to rape you?" Dennis asked.

"Objection, Your Honor. State of mind. The witness can not possibly diagnose her own—"  
"Withdrawn." Dennis said smoothly.

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Jessi the Cheerleader, one of Mark's many supporters, followed Rochelle out of the courtroom during recess. "Why can't you just leave Mark alone?" she yelled, shoving the ex-cheerleader against the wall. "Just because he didn't want a baby—"

"He _killed_ my baby!" Rochelle snapped, throwing the girl off her. "He raped me, he hit me, he killed my baby, and you're just upset because Central's basketball team might lose this season! Well, guess what? I don't care! You can take your fucking basketball season and shove it up your ass!" Then, Rochelle punched her.

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Olivia rubbed Rochelle's shoulders, working out the tension. "She deserved it." Rochelle protested. "If I don't fight back, people will walk all over me."

Elliot sighed. "Do you have to fight back with your fists?"

"A battle of the wits doesn't work in high school, Dad." Rochelle snapped. "Mark's on trial and _I'm_ the one having to defend myself. America sure is some country, where we protect the perp instead of the victim. Just because he was decent at basketball . . ." Rochelle shook hear head.

"Well, you're just lucky Jessi's parents aren't pressing charges." Olivia said. "They agree with you."

Rochelle tried not to smile. "And they're making her quit the squad."

"Not everyone's gong to be on your side, Roxie." Elliot said, tiredly. "One day you're going to meet your match. You can't hit people just because they deserve it."

"Then when am I supposed to hit them? When they _don't_ deserve it?" Rochelle quipped. Elliot shot her a look. "Sorry."

"Self-defense." Olivia said. "That's it."

"It was self-defense. She would have eventually hit me."

"So, now you're a psychic?" Elliot snapped.

"No, I just know Jessi and the brain of high school students a little better than you, Dad. After all, I am one, in case your forgot."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Elliot yelled, irritably.

"Nothing." Rochelle said, standing up. "I'm going to bed. We have to be up early tomorrow." She disappeared up the stairs.

Olivia grabbed Elliot's hands to keep him from going after her. "Just give her some time. She's pretty damn proud of what she did."

Elliot shook his head. "And you are, too, I take it?"

Olivia shrugged. "There are worse things she could have done than punched Jessi. If the threat of you being mad at me didn't hang in the air, I _might_ agree that Jessi deserved it."

"And we don't want me to be mad at you, do we?" Elliot asked, pulling Olivia into his lap and kissing her.

"Not unless you're going to do that." Olivia said breathlessly, returning the kiss.

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Rochelle flew into Elliot's arms. "He _what_?"

"They found him dead in his cell earlier. He committed suicide, baby." Elliot whispered, hugging her.

Rochelle smiled through his tears. "Oh, Daddy."

_It ended with this _

_And everything I prayed for_

_And all I hoped for_

_It ended with this_

_And all I whispered to the angels about_

_All I kissed about_

_All I cried about_

_It ends with this._

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Please R&R. I'm having major writer's block. Any suggestions?

I may have difficulty updating for a few weeks. I will try my hardest to update from a friend's computer, but if I can't. I'll try, I swear …


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